


Unrelenting Light

by DebraHicks



Category: Wizards and Warriors (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: With their combined kingdoms under attack, Erik and Dirk face an strong enemy.  When Dirk's unit is wiped out, Erik must force himself to continue on without his love.  Now, he not only has to fight for the kingdoms but also for his lost love.  But is Dirk dead?  A black horse might know the secret to the the war and Dirk's fate.Sequel to "Shades of Darkness"Published in "Dyad #2" 1/4/1989
Relationships: Dirk Blackpool/Erik Greystone





	1. Prologue

"Be careful what you wish for - you might get it." The old saying barked around the edges of his consciousness, keeping sleep at bay. It hadn't been a wish, he had the irrational urge to shout to whatever deity would listen, it had only been a comment made in jest. He hadn't truly wanted the dubious excitement of an invasion. Erik was excitement enough. Dirk rolled over, pulled the robe tight, tried to find some warmth in the lonely tent.

The deity that had turned his jest against him had teased him first. For seven months life had been prefect, centered around the fair blonde prince he loved. Then came rumors of trouble from outlying western villages, a confirmed attack, and two short weeks later they were at war.

Two divisions had ridden southwest with Justin, aided by Geoffrey, two divisions rode due west with Erik, and an equal number rode northwest with Dirk. Six more divisions remained at an equal distance to all, awaiting the decision of which front faced the strongest opposition. From the moment Dirk had sighted the enemy he knew his troops were outnumbered. 

A messenger had left immediately to summon reinforcements, leaving Dirk to hold the command for as long as possible. Four days had gone by with the line holding through daily attacks. The enemy grew bolder with each attack. Dirk smiled cynically. Their boldness would be short lived. Reinforcements, led by Erik would arrive with the morning. 

Dirk sighed, rolled over the other way. He had grown use to a warm body sharing his bed. He conjured up memories of warm summer days together -days golden and hazy, like his love after a night of sexual abandon. Thoughts of Erik pushed away the dark and cold. He was just drifting off when the sentry’s warning sounded. A burning arrow thudded into the side of the tent as he rolled up, grabbing his sword. 

He stepped out of the tent into a chaos of fighting bodies, flailing swords and burning tents. Instinct told him to run, training made him stay. It was obvious they were being overrun. He started forward, shouting orders. Their only chance was to fall back and regroup, try to hold until morning. As the men started to form around him the first raider seemingly materialized in front of him. 

The enemy fighters were large, nearly six feet tall most of them but they displayed little knowledge of fighting. What they lacked in training they made up for in strength and fanaticism. A curved sword came in at Dirk, he dodged, raising his sword to catch the down stroke, twisted and sent the enemy blade into the ground. Dirk kicked out, hard, felt the man's knee give. The man screamed, rolled away, was immediately replaced by two others. A loose line of men formed on either side of Dirk. Holding off the two warriors he urged his unit back. 

One fell under Dirk's blade, two more replaced him. They were almost to the edge of the woods when the man to Dirk's left screamed, fell for ward, a crossbow bolt protruding from his back. Dirk spun around, swearing hotly. They were surrounded. He scanned his line, they were falling fast. 

"Scatter!" Dirk shouted. "Get word to Prince Greystone!" 

He watched the men break off, run for the cover of the woods in twos and threes, arrows striking around them. An unaccustomed sense of pride swept through Dirk. These were Erik's men, yet they had not deserted him, hadn't moved until he gave the word. He turned to face the enemy. He would buy them as much time as possible. 

The enemy showed no caution. There were only a few men standing on the field, and their blood was up. Dirk took down six of them, his own blood singing in his veins. 

Horsemen entered from the south, a small unit that the dark prince knew would be the leaders. He pressed his attack in that direction, smiling wickedly. He had closed to a few yards when something hit him hard across the shoulders and the world disappeared into darkness.


	2. Chapter Two

Erik's breath caught in his throat. No account given to them by the few exhausted survivors they had found could have prepared them for the total devastation below. The stench of burning flesh carried on the wind, the ground below was churned to red mud. Nothing moved. His jaw clenched tight Erik gave a silent signal and the unit moved down. 

He reined in a dozen yards from a smoldering pyre. "Search parties of four men into the woods to look for wounded." His voice was calm, level. "Set scouts around the perimeter." 

A loud crashing of brushes sent the men scrambling for their weapons. A lone figure, wearing the silver and black of Dirk's unit staggered forward. Marko was to him in an instant, Erik right behind. 

"Healer!" Someone yelled. 

The man was covered with blood and mud, white with shock. Erik caught him before he could fall, lowered him gently to the ground. "Sire..." he choked. 

"Water." Erik commanded. Marko was back in an instant with the water skin from his saddle. Erik held the man up while Marko poured a little of the liquid down his throat. "Now, slowly." 

"Sire, they killed them...all of them..." 

"We know." Erik said softly. 

"Not the soldiers...the wounded. They killed all the wounded." The healer moved up and took the man from a stunned Erik's grasp. 

Erik started to raise, the words struck home, he staggered. Marko grabbed his arm. "Erik?" 

"Dirk," he whispered. The command training that had dominated all of his thirty years controlled his panic. "Send a scout to check the enemy location and strength. Break the search parties in half. They can cover more area that way." 

Marko saw the desperate glitter in Erik's eyes. He nodded, "Right away, Erik." 

Cold daylight stretched out. The search parties came in a few at a time to water their horses, eat, go back out. Marko convinced most of the local animals to help with the search. They found four more survivors, two died before nightfall. 

Dusk had barely started when the scout came back in, horse lathered and puffing. He dismounted before Erik and Marko, went down on one knee, "Sire." 

"Stand up, Greg. Report." 

"The invaders are gone, sir." 

"Gone? How far back?" 

The scout shook his head, "Gone, sir. We rode three hours pass their last location, circled the whole area. Nothing. There were no tracks, sire." 

Marko and Erik exchanged puzzled looks. "A whole army can't just disappear." Marko said. "Can it?" 

Erik paced away, mumbling, "They overrun our command then retreat." He whirled, "No! Not retreat - attack! They've gone north to face Justin." 

"That's a four days forced march." Marko reminded him. 

"There's magic at work here. It's the only way they could move that fast and not leave any sign." Erik tapped the hilt of his sword. "We've got to get back to Justin." 

Even as he said it he knew that the one choice he had hoped forever to avoid was standing before him. Duty. He was Prince of Camarand; bred, trained and sworn to protect the land and her people. The lineage, the oath and the training of a prince did not recognize the man's need to find his love, or mourn his lose. 

Marko stood in silent support, very aware of what his lord faced. Erik turned away. "We'll ride north at dawn. Marko, let the men know." 

*****

Pain. He found it reassuring, one had to be alive to be in pain. He keep his eyes closed and tried to feel out his situation. A few things were obvious, the fact that he was strapped across a horse, bound hand and foot, being the first. His head pounded with each step but he was familiar enough with wounds to know it wasn't serious. There was a moment’s debate over whether to continue faking his unconsciousness. Not knowing how far they had to ride, coupled with nausea from the position prompted his decision. 

"Untie me," he demanded. "I can ride." 

The horse stopped. A deep voice laughed. "So, our little princeling is awake." 

Dirk said indignantly, "That's prince, you son-of-a..." 

The hard slash of a riding whip across his legs silenced him. "Speak when I say so." The voice commanded. 

A heated response tried to force its way past Dirk's clenched teeth but he managed to control it. "Good," the voice continued, "at least you learn quickly." 

The rope around his legs gave way, followed by the one under the horse's belly. A strong hand grabbed the top of his pants, hauled him roughly off. His legs refused to hold him as he touched ground and he ended up on his ass. The tall, blonde man standing above him laughed. Dirk's face flamed red in anger. His captor was large, competent looking with a wicked scar running the length of his right jaw. But he was alone and with life slowly returning to his legs Dirk was sure that he could manage to escape without too much effort. 

"The great Prince Dirk Blackpool, flat on his royal ass!" The man smiled. His voice dropped, changed, became low and dangerous, "This would warm my liege's heart, if he had one." 

"Your liege had better be prepared to pay the price for my capture. Does he think Prince Greystone will take lightly to having his..." A swift kick stopped him for a second. "If you plan on ransoming..." 

"You can't ransom a dead man." 

That confused Dirk enough to stop his next comment. Before he could think of a suitable reply he was hauled to his feet, thrown up on the horse, straddling. The move started a whole new pounding in his skull. The man grabbed Dirk's bound hands, tied them to the saddle. The next move stopped any current plans Dirk had for trying to ride off. He tossed a loop of rope over Dirk's head, laced it through the saddle, and tied it securely to the back of his own saddle. Panic coursed through the dark prince, one wrong move on either of their parts would result in a broken neck or a slow choking. He hid his fear, tucking it tightly away out of sight. 

"I do hope that nag of yours is well trained," he said calmly. 

"Not to worry. It's worth a lot to me that I get you there in one piece." 

*****

The exhausted search teams returned to camp just as the sun vanished. They were empty handed and silent. Animals drug in anything that might help identify the dead. Marko retrieved the grisly prizes his animal helpers drug in, anything to help identify the dead; jewelry, scraps of clothes, weapons. An uneasy waiting settled over the area. 

Erik stood unmoving at the edge of camp, staring into the coming darkness, like the camp, waiting. He hadn't allowed it to touch him, held the reality away to cling to the slim, fading hope that somehow... 

A hand gripped his arm. He turned, blue eyes touching Marko's before the larger man could break away. What Erik saw in the deep brown eyes chilled him beyond the growing night cold. 

"Erik..." Marko held out something, laid it in Erik's hand. 

Erik stared. "Where?" 

"An opossum found it, near the pyre." 

The world closed down around Erik, vision tunneling until only the narrow silver ring in his hand remained. It was a fine piece of work, two silver chains entwined. Slender, carved, beautiful. Now it lay cold and dull in his hand. Erik felt the scream of denial building in his chest, fought it down, transforming it into one word. "Dirk's..." Unconsciously he clenched the metal, turned to face the pyre. "No." 

He was running before he was aware of it, fleeing into the snowy woods, vaguely hearing Marko yelling behind him. The trees closed behind him, covering his retreat. He ran, unseeing, tears denied until his foot caught something under the icy white, sent him sprawling face down into the cold white. The sorrow would not be checked any longer, came down hot and blinding. Tears flowed down his face to freeze in the snow. He pounded his fist into the snow beside his head, screams echoing through the darkness. 

Time was lost to sorrow. His voice had died to a hoarse whisper when lantern light broke the darkness. A warm dry cloak dropped gently over his shoulders. 

"Erik, come back to camp now, okay?" Marko pleaded softly. 

Erik pulled his arms over his head. He was safe here. Couldn't Marko see that? The world didn't exist in this dark place. A world without Dirk - without sunshine or laughter or love. 

"Go away." It was a ragged whisper. 

"No." Marko's reply was firm. He grabbed Erik's shoulders, forced him to sit up, frowned at the lips blue from cold. 

"Please, Marko," Erik begged. "Leave me alone." 

"I'm not letting you sit here and freeze to death." 

Erik looked at him, an insane laugh starting in his chest. He jerked away, drew his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees. "I died last night, Marko." 

The evening, calm statement hung in the air between them, scaring Marko beyond anything he'd ever known before. He wanted to grab Erik, hug him, shake him, hit him, scream his arguments at him. He pulled back and stood up. 

"If that's what you want. Betray everyone who trusts you, loves you. Sit there and freeze. Leave Justin and Geoffrey to defend the land, to find the ones who murdered Dirk." 

Erik flinched as if struck. He looked up at Marko, gray-blue eyes holding the same look as a starving child. He glanced away, a new thought forcing itself on him. If the light had dimmed with Dirk's death, the world growing darker, then he would help it along. The cold of his clothes matched the hardness suddenly filling his chest. He would go back and finish this war - quickly and ruthlessly. 

Erik stood, looked at Marko. The blue eyes, normally so kind, now held an emotion that Marko was afraid to name. He took an involuntary step back. 

In Erik's voice the stranger in front of him said, "Gather the men." 

With a quick nod Marko ran. Erik knelt in the snow, wiped a hand full across his face, straightened his tunic, refastened his cloak. In the time it took him to return to camp the men, except for the out guards had formed in the center of the clearing.  
Erik's voice was almost normal. "I have been brought proof that Prince Dirk Blackpool was one of the casualties here today." He took a deep breath, "Dirk was my mate, a fact known, though not completely accepted by some of you, but a fact." 

"In two days we will face the enemy who killed him and many more of our friends. They hunted down and killed the wounded. They showed no mercy here - I expect them to be shown the same treatment." He turned and went back into his tent, leaving a quiet, shocked group behind him. 

Marko kept vigil by the fire far into the night, listening in silent anguish to the soft sobs from the tent behind him. Helpless tears ran down his cheeks. He loved Erik; steady friend, enthusiastic companion, caring lord. When Dirk and Erik had found each other he had been first wary then overjoyed that at last Erik had found his mate. From Erik's commanded, and the look in his eyes, Marko wondered what price they would all pay for his lost love. 

Another muffled cry came from the tent. Marko desperately wanted to comfort, to ease the pain, to bring Erik back from the dark place he had retreated to. But what comfort was there for the loss of one's soul?


	3. Chapter 3

"You call that a castle?" Dirk sneered. "I have outhouses better built than..." The rope tightened around his throat, irritating the already present burns. For two days every attempt at questions had been overridden by a swift kick or a choking pull. Dirk was stubborn, but the need for information had become less imperative as the bruises and rope burns multiplied. 

The structure in question had been a beautiful, large castle. But in ages past the mountain that protected it, hovered over it, and had turned against it. The mountain had come down, taking with it several towers, fortification walls and most of the roof on the main building. Time claimed the area. Now the castle was a part of the mountain, blending in with the ancient rock. 

There were no signs of life as they rode in through the partially open gate that remained. The horses picked their way carefully over the broken cobblestones in the courtyard. Against the north wall a horse whinnied from inside a wooden lean-to. The bounty man stopped them in front of the main house, near a section were the roof still stood. He untied the rope from his saddle but left in around Dirk's neck, using it as a leash to lead him in. 

The inside was as ramshackle as the outside; dark, musty, smelling like wet stone. Dirk edged away from several shadows, certain they moved with more than just the shifting light. 

"More here to worry about than a few shadows." The man commented. 

They went around a turn made almost invisible by the boulder nearly blocking it and stood facing a very new, very solid oak and iron door. The man straightened, neatened his clothes, brushed the dust off his pants. Dirk thought he saw the slightest hesitation before the man rapped twice against the wood. There was a pause before the door swung open slowly. Darkness filled the enormous hall behind it. 

From somewhere in the darkness a deep voice commanded, "Enter." 

Light flooded part of the room, torches flaring high. It was then Dirk knew how much trouble he was really in. Only wizards could command flames like that. He threw his shoulders back, walked forward before his startled captor could move. The man jerked him back. 

"That will be enough, Frederick," a voice said from the front of the room that was still in darkness. The man eased off. 

A shape peeled itself away from the shadows, stepped boldly into the light. He was medium height, squarely built, older but with a power that could be felt yards away. His robes were red with gold trim that sparkled in the torch light. A monocle swung from his neck, reflecting the light in small rainbows. With an easy stride he moved in front of Dirk and stared at him for a moment. He raised his hand and Dirk steeled himself for the blow. It never came. The man jerked the rope off over his head. 

"There'll be no more need for this." He smiled at Dirk. It didn't show in his eyes. "So, the great Prince Dirk Blackpool, at last we meet. Oh, forgive me. You don't know me. I'm Demont, a humble wizard." 

"What a new concept." Dirk remarked smoothly. "A humble wizard." 

The wizard's smile turned even colder. He waved his hand and the ropes binding Dirk's hands fell away. "We can dispense with those also I think." He added lightly. "You'll appreciate my methods of restraint so much more." 

"Why don't you cut the sweetness routine and tell me what the hell you want?" Dirk snapped, bringing his arms forward slowly, rubbing blood back into them. 

"Mortals are always so impatient. I think that's one reason there are so few wizards." 

"And wizards always manage to avoid a direct answer. Why am I here?" 

Dumont continued to smile. It was obvious he was enjoying what he was about to say. "Very well, Prince, I will explain, slowly and in small syllables so that even you can understand. Frederick, leave." 

The other man disappeared. The rest of the torches flared up to reveal a large throne in the back of the partially wasted room. Dumont walked back, sat down on it, spread his robes around him. "Did you know that you managed to do something that hadn't been done in two thousand years? Something that almost makes you a legend?" His voice rose, dominated the room. "You killed a dark wizard and destroyed his monocle!" 

In the pause that followed his pronouncement Dirk said calmly, "Is that all?" 

The wizard came to his feet, hands glowing the same blue-white as his monocle, a flash shot from his finger tips and struck Dirk. He went to his knees, stifling a scream. As soon as it hit, it was gone, leaving Dirk holding his stomach and gasping for breath. The wizard looked put out, as if he were angry that Dirk had caused him to lose his temper. 

"Yes, that's all." He sneered. "And now you pay. You and your lover." 

Dirk's head came up. "Erik?" 

Dumont sat calmly back down. "You know, it's not really so much the fact that you managed to kill Vector that's the problem here. Vector never was very good. The problem is that you upset the balance by destroying his monocle. Now, I realize that the balance is always shifting - sometimes more good, sometimes more evil and some wizards on both sides say that's the way it has to be. But I happen to disagree." 

Dirk climbed to his feet, trying very hard to keep up with the rambling explanation. "With the monocle gone there's now less evil in the world?" 

"Yes," Dumont sighed. "And you, too." 

"Me?" 

"Oh, you were very promising, as beginners go. Would have made a first class badass wizard in a few hundred years, or so, if not for Prince Greystone." The man settled back in the throne. "So, that brings us back to the question of how to shift the balance back my way, while teaching the two of you a painful and fatal lesson." 

"A wizard can't kill a mortal." Dirk stated, more for his own reassurance than anything. 

"True, sadly true." The voice went low. "But there's nothing to say that we can't set up the circumstances by which harm can be done." He stepped down, walked to stand inches away from Dirk. He raised his hand, the blow landed with sharp echoes. Dirk lunged, knowing he could take the wizard. A flash, pain again, Dirk went down. 

Above him the wizard laughed unpleasantly. "Poor Prince Blackpool, Vector taught you so very little. As a man I can do anything to you I please, and as a wizard I can use my magic to keep you controlled." 

He went back to the throne. "But not to worry, I don't plan on seeing you dead anytime soon. I brought you here to watch my plan take effect." He waved his hand and a moving picture formed on the wall nearest Dirk. "You're beloved." 

Erik was in the center of the picture, mounting the black war horse that had been a gift from Dirk. His face was set, determined, somehow different than Dirk remembered ever seeing him, controlled even beyond the night he had killed Vector. 

"Looks a little ragged, doesn't he?" The picture vanished. Dumont cleared his throat. "The plan is really very simple. The whole idea is to change something over. Convert, if you will, someone. Like you were converted." 

Dirk was ahead of him now, the idea both absurd and appalling. It was his turn to laugh. "You think you can turn Erik Greystone? You're crazier than Vector ever was." 

He expected another flash but Dumont merely shrugged. "You think so, do you? Well, let's just play with time a bit." He waved a little more elaborately, the monocle flared briefly. The picture faded back in, a different setting, a camp at night with Erik standing in the middle of a circle of his men. Suddenly there was sound to go with the picture and Dirk heard the level, sad voice of his mate. '...two days we will face the enemy who killed him and many more of our friends. The enemy showed no mercy here -hunted down and killed the wounded. I expect them to be shown the same treatment.' 

"No." Dirk whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik forced the troops to a breakneck, exhausting pace. The enemy had not marched away, they had been moved away by very powerful magic. He was worried about Justin and Geoffrey. 

They arrived in bare time to fend off a second assault on Justin's troops. The enemy again fought hard and long but this time with little effect. The combined southern and northern troops overran them on both flanks. The enemy scattered, retreating into the mountains from which they had attacked. The troops halted their pursuit. 

The Northern men started to carry their wounded off the field, ignoring the fallen enemy soldiers. Erik dismounted, steam from his hard breathing misting on the cold air. His men stopped what they were doing, watched their leader. Slowly he drew his sword, walked unsteadily across the bloodied ground to where an enemy soldier lay clutching his shattered shoulder. 

Erik looked down, met the man's eyes. Fear, pain, defeat showed there. Erik drew a sharp breath, the great sword coming up two handed above his head. Marko was moving, running across the rocky land toward his liege, knowing he would be too late. The sword whistled down, thudded harmlessly into the sodden ground. Erik followed it down, going to his knees, tears coursing down his cheeks. 

Marko was there, pulling him up, leading him away from the dead and dying. 

*****

Dirk laughed; loud, long, relief and pride full in the sound. He had been unable to turn away as Dumont showed him the battle. Rage had marked Erik's fighting, but in the end he was still the Erik Greystone that Dirk loved. 

"You'll never do it," Dirk said confidently. "And now your army's defeated as well." 

"Army?" Dumont grinned. "Villagers, backwards and stupid, but willing to believe that my magic could lead them to victory. And as for failing, dear prince, there is more going on here than you can imagine. I've only just started the game." He rose. "And you, Northern Prince, or is it all of Camarandd now, well, whatever, what shall I do to keep you amused?" 

Dirk returned the man's smile. "Why don't you turn yourself into a dragon? Raze a few villages, ravish a few maidens. I always felt that part of Vector's problem was that he didn't get laid enough." 

Dirk had considered a great variety of responses to his remark. The one he got was not among them. Dumont threw back his head, roared with laughter. It was a few minutes before he could get his breath. "Oh, Dirk, I will almost be sorry to kill you. You are a gem." His eyes went completely cold. "And the biggest fool I have ever met! You still don't realize that Vector was an amateur, an ass. He lost his monocle to a mortal! And yet you think all wizards are like him." 

He moved closer, slapped Dirk hard enough to snap his head around. "I am about to clear up that misconception." 

Mystic flares filled the air around Dirk, sending him to the ground in helpless, harmless pain. Dumont moved, alternating the flares with real, wounding punches. Held helpless by the magic, Dirk struggled to defend himself as Dumont took great pleasure in slowly and expertly beating him to semi-consciousness. The flares faded, only the real pain remained coursing through Dirk's body. Dumont panted from the effort he had put into the beating. 

Dirk lay still. After a minute he managed to find his breath. He rolled to his side, stared up at Dumont, wiped the blood off his lips and chin. "Not bad. I haven't been beaten this well since I was twelve and Vector caught me with my first scullery maid." 

Dumont watched him like a hawk on a rabbit. He knelt, very gently rubbed a bruised cheek. "I've only just started. But this isn't the time to continue." 

He moved toward the throne while Dirk struggled to his feet. He waved, the monocle flashed. Dirk found himself minus shirt, tunic, cloak and boots. He shivered in the damp draft, only his breeches left against the cold. "Clothes are such a status symbol, don't you think?" Dumont said. "The cold will clear your head, give you a better perspective on things." 

"Very kind of you." Dirk remarked through clenched teeth. 

"Think nothing of it." Dumont rose. "Frederick!" 

The big man returned instantly. "Sire?" 

"See him to his quarters, Frederick." 

Frederick took Dirk by the arm. "Shall I feed him, sire?" 

Dumont smiled, "No. Hunger is good for the soul." 

Dirk smiled back. "I'm so glad you're looking after both my mind and body." 

Frederick tugged, turning him toward one of the three doors leading off the main room. Behind them Dumont laughed. 

*****

The silver and blue tent dominated the rough war camp. Marko pulled aside the flap slightly, glanced at the pale figure huddled on the cot in one corner. Erik had been asleep for almost ten hours after having been given a potion by the healer. He had offered no resistance, merely sipping the bitter drink then curling into a fetal position deep under the blankets. 

Marko had watched him for several hours after sending riders to find Justin and Geoffrey. With the riders out he had fallen asleep on his saddle pad near the entrance. Just after dawn the scout returned, waking Marko with news that Justin was on his way. Marko had time to force himself awake, wash and check on Erik before Justin galloped into camp, dismounting in front of the tent. 

"Marko," Justin asked, "is it true?" 

"Yeah," Marko nodded, "it's true. Does Geoffrey know?" Marko felt a twinge of guilt at not being there with his sometimes lover, even though he knew that until the last few months there had been no love lost between the two brothers. But Geoffrey had Ariel to comfort him. Erik needed him. 

"I told him." Justin said. "I asked if he wanted to go home but he said no, said he would take command there while I came to be with Erik." He looked toward the tent. "How is he?" 

"Sleeping, thanks to a healer's potion. First he cried, then he got mad, now...I don't know." 

The taller man kicked at a pebble on the ground. "I didn't like it, you know, my little brother not being norm...not liking...well, taking Dirk." He smiled sadly, "But he was so happy. Damn! Why did this have to happen to him?" 

Inside the cold tent Erik lay in the narrow cot listening to the voices outside. The sweet oblivion had been broken by the dawn light flittering in through the silk walls. The long sleep had turned the shock and anger into pain; constant, sharp, empty. Erik turned his face into the blanket to stop his moan. A hand touched his shoulder. 

"Hey, kid." A deep, sad voice asked, "How you doing'?" 

Reluctantly Erik rolled over, looked up at his older brother. "I don't know." 

Justin's hand moved up into the soft gold hair, ruffled gently. "That's an honest enough answer. There are few more things to be done here, Erik. Have to get the wounded started home, figure out what to do with the prisoners, but then we'll go home." He smiled, tried to sound cheerful, only sounded uncomfortable. Justin knew he was not good at handling serious emotions. 

Erik's eyes darkened, he turned away, lost in thought. Long minutes passed. Justin started to get worried at Erik's complete stillness. Before he could decide whether to call Marko Erik moved, stood up, grabbed his cape and pulled on his boots. 

"Find Marko." He commanded his very confused brother. 

"Erik?" Justin started. 

The Southern prince brushed the flap away, marched out. "Sergent-at- arms! Marko!" His voice carried around the camp. Most of the soldiers stopped, stared at their suddenly returned commander. 

Marko jumped up from where he had been sitting by the morning fire. "Sire!" 

"Find me the highest ranking prisoner you can." Erik's voice was steady, strong. "Fast!" 

"But, Erik, what..." 

"Now, Marko!" 

Marko saluted, something he hadn't done in a very long time, grabbed the nearest guard and headed for the circled prisoners huddled to the east edge of camp. Justin walked up next to Erik and watched the heavy warrior vanish into the crowd of men. 

"Erik, what are you doing?" 

There was no answer. Erik turned to one of the men who had been sharing the fire with Marko. "Cedric, take two men, round up as many of the enemy's horses as you can find." 

"Erik..." Justin tried again. 

Erik faced him this time. "It's all wrong, Justin. The battles, this war. There's no reason to it. Think about it! They hit a couple of poor villages, fought our forces twice and were wiped out by the second battle." His voice rose. "The only thing that's come of this is that Dirk is dead!" 

It was the first time he had said it since the initial shock had worn off. He paled, took a shaky breath. Justin laid a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, Erik?" 

"There's been magic involved in all this." Erik looked into the deep brown eyes, covered his brother's hand with his own. "I want to know why. And who." 

"And when you have him?" Justin asked a little worriedly. He had heard about the threats Erik had made against the enemy soldiers. 

There was a sigh from the younger prince. "No revenge. I'll bring him in front of a high council. He's, they've, started a war and killed a Prince of Camarand. I want them to face justice." 

Justin watched closely for a moment, saw only sorrow and truth in his brother's tired face. He nodded. Erik would get what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

Dirk was sure he had lived through worse times. The night he had been trapped in a three by three room with dying spiders stacking up around his legs, the nights of pain after his half-brother had nearly whipped him to death, nights of battle and solitude. Those times had been different. Then he had only his own safety to worry about. Now he was scared, for Erik. 

He tried to still his shivering. More memories surfaced; Erik fighting Vector and Dirk's half-brother while Dirk lay wounded, helpless on the floor. That had been the worst moment of his life, knowing that in his last minutes he would have to tell the truth that would cost him the only love he had ever held. Even that couldn't compare with what Erik must be going through now. 

Standing slowly, he used the wall to stay up until he had his balance. Rubbing his arms briskly he paced the small cell. It didn't help. There was no warmth in the cell or his thoughts. Panic overrode the cold as Dirk considered what Erik might do. He had no doubts as to his own reaction to Erik's death; find the ones responsible, make them pay - slowly. After that, death. He had no wish and no reason to live without Erik. 

Unbidden images flashed into his mind, Erik with a dagger in his hand, striking down, in, blood... Dirk shook the images away. No matter how much Erik hurt, there was too much to stop him. Duty, Marko, his family. Dirk put his trust in them to keep his gold haired lover alive. 

Dirk stopped, facing the door. Erik wouldn't have to have help for long. He was getting out of here. That made him smile, conjured up new images; Erik's face when he saw him again, their slow, gentle loving when he got back. Dirk increased his pacing, forcing his numb body back to awareness. His one chance was to take the next person coming through the door, no matter who it was, fast and at once. The smile turned wolfish. 

There was no window in the cell and time crept by while Dirk tried to keep his circulation going. After what seem a wait of hours he heard the click of boots in the corridor. He stepped back. The hinges squealed, Frederick stepped in, carrying a tray. He glanced at the royal prisoner. 

"Bread and water. It's all I could get." He sat the tray down, apparently unconcerned that Dirk was unfettered. 

"Sorry to have troubled you." Dirk moved closer. Frederick ignored him. "You don't seem very careful with your prisoners." 

Frederick straightened. "Where would you go?" 

Dirk flattened him with one punch. "I'll think of something." 

Dirk unsnapped the man's cloak, wrapped it around him, pulled the boots off, slipped them on. They were too big but it was better than trying to negotiate the rough stones barefoot. He used Frederick's own belt to secure him, took a quick glance down the hall and moved into it. 

He smiled grimly at his captor's over confidence. There had been no attempt to conceal the route on his way down. He would backtrack, make sure the wizard was not on his throne and escape the same way he had been brought in. He hugged the wall, peeked around the next corner. A blank wall stared back at him. There was a moment of confusion. He was sure he hadn't gotten turned around. Controlling his unease he continued the way he was headed, hoping the next turn was the one he wanted. 

The next turn showed him a hall that led down to a set of double doors. He didn't remember any doors on the route Frederick had led him down. He took a hesitant step down the hall, turned away and continued on his original route. There were several left turns which he ignored before coming to another right hall. Double doors again stood at the end of the way. Dirk didn't like it. While he knew he had been in pain on the trip down he had been very far from delirious. But none of the route looked familiar now. 

He was being driven deeper into the castle, herded. The realization brought anger. He straightened the cloak, squared his shoulders and marched purposefully down the hall, kicked in the doors standing at the end. A large, lavish, warm throne room greeted him. Dumont sat like a spider on the throne in the center of the hall. 

"Welcome, Prince Blackpool. Did you enjoy your tour of my wonderful castle?" 

"Not very. It's rather a dull place. If you wanted me here why didn't you just send for me?" Dirk demanded. 

Dumont smiled pleasantly. He smiled all the time Dirk decided, and it was beginning to annoy him. "But the cat always plays with the prey first." 

"If you're through with your little exercise may I go back to my cell? The rats make better company." 

Dumont didn't rise to the remark. "Oh, no, I'm afraid that the game is on again. But I would imagine that you're feeling a little put out right now. Would you like to see Erik?" 

For a fleeting moment panic drained the color from Dirk's handsome, bruised face. The thought that the wizard held Erik was banished immediately. The wizard was playing with pictures again. Dirk hid his reaction, obviously disappointing Dumont. 

"Whatever makes you happy," he said calmly. 

"Happy?" Dumont questioned. "No. What makes me happy will come just a little later. First," he gestured elaborately, "your prince."   
The wall became almost three dimensional, a battle camp, near dawn. Dirk knew it had to be real time. Not even wizards could show the future. 

The camp was breaking. A long line of prisoners being herded into one end of camp, silent and sullen. Even the victors seemed quiet. There was no noisy relief, no bad jokes about going home to wife and dear ones. Marko was standing next to a large silver and blue tent in the center of camp. Justin dismounted next to him. There was an infinite sadness in both of them. 

The sadness reached out and touched Dirk. He knew it wasn't for him. Justin, Marko, even his own brother would mourn with Erik but they would not mourn for him. Only Erik would mourn and remember him. It was unfair, he thought. He would have been a good ruler, a just king ... He shook himself hard, glancing at Dumont. The defeatist thoughts were not going to help, were just what Dumont wanted. He wasn't dead yet. 

On the wall Erik stepped out of the tent; a pale, older version of the vibrant prince Dirk loved. Shadows etched the handsome face, pain colored blue eyes. Dirk moaned softly, Erik's pain echoing in his own heart. The involuntary sound made Dumont laugh. 

The scene faded, the wall returning to gray stone. "Not too much." Dumont commented. "Giving too much away too soon would ruin the suspense." 

"And showing me nothing at all will prove just how much you've accomplished." Dirk snapped. 

Dumont moved over to him. "I can send you back to your cell if you want. Would you like a few playmates sent along?" A spider, large, black and yellow, appeared on the back of his hand. 

Dirk flinched back. Dumont laughed, moved closer, the spider vanished. "No, prince. I think you'll like it better here." 

A hand brushed at Dirk's cheek, continued down his throat. Dirk struck out, hit an invisible barrier millimeters from Dumont's face. 

"Poor Prince." Dumont laughed. "You suggested this. 'Wizards don't get laid enough' I believe was the phrasing. Perhaps I'll be in a better mood afterwards, huh. Shall we test the theory?" 

A warm gust of wind informed Dirk that he was now minus the rest of his clothes. His first reaction was to try to cover himself. He resisted the urge, stayed straight. He was about to be raped. The idea didn't shock him. It was a common practice among some barbaric tribes, used to humiliate prisoners. 

Dumont moved away, gestured toward the far wall, there was a yellow flash of light. A large bed, the four poster's carved gargoyles, now dominated the room. Dirk walked over to stand between it and the now equally naked wizard. He looked from one to the other calmly. 

"I am going to kill you for all this." It was a flat, unemotional statement of fact. For the first time Dirk had the satisfaction of seeing Dumont flinch back, however slightly. 

He was rewarded with a blue-white flare that knocked him back into the bed. Dumont pounced, his heavy frame pinning Dirk to the bed. "You are mine now, Blackpool. I can take anything I want, inflict anything I want." A hand traced lightly along his throat. "One tiny burst of power in the right place, dear prince, and you'll be a royal gelding. 

A hard, hot mouth pressed down onto Dirk's. He tried to twist away, a warning tingle just above his groin stopped him. Teeth bit into his lips until he was forced to open his mouth. A long, cool tongue invaded, probed. Dirk snaked one arm free, swung at the mage's ribs, again the hard, invisible wall stopped him. It was useless. The question was simple; continue to resist and be injured further or relax and let the man have him. To add to the argument Dirk had the impression that the more he struggled the more aroused Dumont would become. 

With a strong, deliberate effort he forced his muscles to relax. His mouth slipped wider, his eyes closed. The body above him stilled, the hard erection prodding his own limp cock. 

Dumont pulled back. "No fight left, handsome prince?" 

"I may be a prince but I'm not stupid. What chance do I have? Take your best shot." He added sarcastically, "You probably fuck like you kiss. Badly." 

The wizard moved off, stood by the bed staring down at his naked captive. Looking up Dirk knew that it was past time for him to learn to keep his mouth shut. The controlled hate that had been evident during his first beating was gone, replaced by total rage. There was another flare, extending from Dumont's hand, that solidified into a black leather whip. 

Dirk paled, trembled. "No!" He moved, came off the bed, trying to get clear. Old memories, full of pain, flooded his mind. Dumont swung, the whip biting into Dirk's flank as he moved by. The force knocked him to the cold floor. "No! No! Please, anything, ...don't." 

The second slash scored his shoulders, the third swing cut a crimson groove along the bottom of his ribs, drug a harsh sob from him. The next blow stopped in mid-swung. 

Dumont glanced from his cringing prisoner to the whip, back to Dirk. The smile this time held triumph. "So, we've found it have we? I've been told that all mortals have one -a weak spot of some kind. Now, let me see if I've got this right." He walked around Dirk, gesturing with the whip. "You can handle the rape. But not the whip. Interesting." 

Dirk waited, feeling an unreasonable anger building in him, not at Dumont - at Erik. He remembered a whispered promise, made in the dark of night that it would never happen again. Erik wouldn't let it. He knew the anger was irrational, Erik would have killed to prevent this from happening but it was there and he took a weird strength from it. 

The whip touched his back, he barely controlled his scream even as he realized that it was merely being trailed along his spine. Dirk looked over his shoulder. Dumont was standing over him, fondling his diminished erection. 

"What do you want?" Dirk was surprised that his voice sounded so normal. 

"Come now, that should be obvious, even to a mortal." His cock hardened under his hand. "Rape is great fun, but a willing partner, huh, well, a willing partner is rare." He pointed, "And bed's are much more comfortable than this floor." 

He moved over, confident that Dirk would follow. Dirk lay for another minute trying to recover his composure, knowing that he couldn't. He stood up, eyes on the whip in Dumont's hand and stretched out beside him in bed. 

"Pleasure me." The wizard commanded, grazing the whip along Dirk's hip, enjoying the way the muscles tensed. "And remember, I'm very particular. I only approve of the best. Anything less and you'll have another set of scars to match the existing ones." 

Dirk broke off from the world around him, thought only of mechanically performing the task before him. He studied the body next to him with clinical detachment. He didn't think of Erik, refused to blaspheme what he and Erik shared with any comparison to what he was doing with Dumont. The body under his hands was round, going to flab, white, the cock long, thin and smooth. 

Slowly, automatically, very conscious of the whip nearby Dirk pleasured Dumont. He used his hands, mouth, whole body to the absolute best and quickest effect, wanting it over as soon as possible. The moment stretched out, Dirk felt Dumont stiffen, took him deep into this throat, lapped and sucked. A faint moan was the first and only sound the wizard made. He came, dropping over the edge into oblivion. 

Dirk moved, taking his only chance, hoping in that one prefect moment that Dumont's guard would be down. He threw a hard punch to Dumont's right jaw. There was the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh, cracking against bone. Dirk hit the floor running, glanced around for his stolen clothes, didn't see them. He cursed the loss as he jerked open the door. The hall was empty, the cold hitting him as he sprinted out, surprising himself that he could still run. 

It took all his diminished strength to force open the outside door. Mid-morning light blinded him for a few precious seconds, the cold even more biting despite the sun. He spotted the horses, haltered not bridled. A snap of the wrist untied one animal. It took two tries before he was able to swing onto the steed. He kicked into a gallop straight for the collapsed portcullis. 

The open space beyond the walls increased his confidence. He gave the gelding its head, urging him on. The country surrounding the castle was winter barren, leaving very little to offer in the way of cover. He put his trust in the horse's speed and the strength of his punches, hoping that with Frederick out for a while it would give him enough of a head start to get into the pass and plan an ambush. He knew he wouldn't get far in the shape he was in, would have to take out any pursuit soon. A dark shadow in the rocks marked a break through the solid wall of granite. He slowed the horse, angled for the narrow gorge. 

A blue-white flare hit the gray rock in front of the animal, showering sparks. The horse panicked, tried to turn, hooves scrabbled on loose shale, and went down on his hunches. Dirk stayed on, clinging to the mane. The gelding got his feet back under him, started back in the direction he had come. Another flare blossomed in front of him, whited out the sunlight. The animal reared, spun. Dirk slipped, made a futile grab at the horse's neck, missed. He hit the rocky ground on one shoulder, rolled twice and connected with the granite wall. He had enough time to curse the first god he could think of before the darkness closed around him.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, how does it all fit together?" Marko asked Erik softly. 

"Why come all the way over Devil's Back Mountains to invade?" Justin gestured to the map laid out before them. "What were they after?" 

"Especially since none of them seem to know a thing about fighting. They don't even know what the battle plan was." Marko added. 

Erik had been silent for the twenty minutes that it took to cover what they had found out by questioning the prisoners. "Maybe we're asking the wrong questions. Instead of what were they after, how about what did they get?" 

Marko and Justin looked at each other and shrugged. "Nothing." Justin answered. 

"They killed Dirk." Erik stated. 

"You said that before." Justin reminded him. "But none of the men even knew, or remembered seeing Dirk during the battle." 

"You just said yourself that this bunch doesn't even know which way to hold a sword." Erik said evenly. "The only name they gave you was Dumont?" 

Marko nodded. "They didn't know much about the guy. Just that he was a wizard who said he would use his magic to lead them to victory." 

Erik pointed to the map. It was the newest one available but still showed Camarand divided into North and South. "That's the village this bunch belongs to." His finger moved deeper into the rugged mountains. "This is where the horses said the village elders had been just before they marched." 

Again Marko nodded. They had not been surprised to get more useful information out of the animals than their masters. Animals, except for a rare few, had no capacity for lying or evasion. "Yeah, they complained about the long trip and loose stones." 

Justin leaned over the map. "That's a pretty wild area. The last person to go in there was Uncle Leford, back in 65, just before the war with the North started." The other two men looked at him with surprised impression. Justin shrugged, "I'm not as dumb as I look." 

"I'm going to find that castle." Erik stated firmly. "I have a lot of questions for this Dumont person." 

Marko moved toward the front of the tent. "I'll go get the horses and load the supplies. If we bring one of the villagers horses he can help show the way. We'll have to hurry though, horses don't have much of a memory." There was a slight hesitation from the large man. He stopped just before the tent flap, looked back at the two brothers. "You're not going to try to stop me from going, Erik?" 

"Do you want me to?" 

"No. It wouldn't do you any good to try." 

"I know that." Erik explained. 

"Better make that three horses, Marko." Justin spoke up. 

"No." Erik turned. "You, I need to stop. Be real, Justin. There's too much left to do here. Geoffrey can't do it alone. You have to stay." 

"I figured you'd say that," the oldest Greystone said. "I just wanted you to know I was willing." 

"I know." Erik acknowledged softly. "The day's all but gone. We'll start first thing in the morning." 

The other two hesitated. Erik tried to be reassuring. "Go on. I'm okay. And no, I don't need a healer." Unconvinced looks answered him but they left. 

The carefully controlled front weakened, he sagged, leaning against the table for a minute before straightening. Erik was puzzled by his own reactions. The rage had faded, even the sorrow seemed to have dulled under a new obsessive need to know, to understand, to justify why the fates had taken Dirk from him. He refused to accept the tiny irritating thought that it had just happened. Such a great loss had to have purpose, some meaning. He glanced down at the wide empty expanse on the map. Somewhere in there was his reason. 

Near dark Marko brought him dinner, waited in silence as he forced it down. Erik had given orders that all prisoners were to be held until he and Marko were well away. He didn't want word somehow reaching their strange opponent before them. Erik's yawning convinced Marko that he really was tired though they both knew that sleep would be impossible. Marko touched Erik's bowed shoulder briefly, left without a word. 

Erik lay down, pulled the blankets tight, felt the emptiness settle in around him. Tears flowed now that he had no one to hold them back for, soaked the gold hair. He accepted the tears and the loneliness, lay waiting for dawn, for a chance to move, to do something, to go and find his answers. 

A sentry's shout stirred him. There were several minutes of whispered voices outside the tent then a lone voice by the entrance called his name. For one horrible, wonderful moment he thought it was Dirk. He was up, moving across the dark space when the rational part of his mind registered the voice as Geoffrey Blackpool's. He staggered to a stop, wiped away the fresh tears, took a deep breath. 

"Enter." He turned, raised the shutter on the small lamp. 

Geoffrey pushed the flap aside and entered. His cloak caught on the tent pole, yanked him back. He grabbed it, jerked it free. It was so typical for Geoff that Erik couldn't help but smile. He had grown fond of the younger Blackpool. 

Erik had long wondered about the feelings between the two brothers. Dirk's hate and anger at the world had been very real, very hot, until Erik's love had cooled it. It seemed to him though that Geoffrey's bravado had mostly been to emulate his older, admired brother. Erik also suspected that a touch of gratitude might have entered into it. From the few things Erik had learned from Dirk about his childhood it seemed that his lover had taken the brunt of Vector's sadism. Whether by choice or not he had kept the wizard away from Geoffrey. 

Since his older brother's mating, and his own marriage to Ariel, Geoffrey had changed; grown, become more responsible. He smiled more, laughed. Even his clothing had changed. The black leather had given way to dark greens and browns, trimmed with gold. Erik was glad to see it. If any good had come out of the war it was that Geoffrey had shown that he would be able to carry his weight in caring for the combined kingdoms. 

But the figure standing in front of Erik was a brother hurting and trying not to show it. He meet Erik half way across the tent. "Erik, Justin told me you're leaving tomorrow." His voice was almost steady. "I came to tell you how sorry...." The calm deserted him, he swallowed hard, looked at the ground. 

Erik was slightly surprised at the tears that glistened in the dim light. He wondered if Dirk could have cried over Geoffrey. Despite the love he held for his dark prince he had accepted the fact that Dirk was incapable of many of the emotions that most people took as matter of course. But Dirk had been learning, his new found love opening other feelings to him. Watching it happen had been a source of great joy for Erik. 

Fresh tears ran cool on his cheeks. He and Geoffrey moved together, took each other in a tight hug. "Erik, I'm so sorry...I know how...I loved him, too, you know." 

"I know." Erik whispered, trying to think of a way to sooth the trembling body. "He...lo..." 

"No. Don't." Geoffrey pulled back. "He did his best. He tried but..." 

Erik hugged him again. "He did care, Geoff. It was just very hard for him to show." 

Geoffrey broke the contact, pulling gently away, keeping his hands on Erik's wide shoulders. He smiled weakly. "No wonder Dirk loved you. I came over to try to make you feel better and you end up taking care of me." 

Erik looked up, realizing in slight surprise that Geoffrey was taller than Dirk. "You have made me feel better. I needed to know that I wasn't the only one who would miss...him." 

"You're not." Geoffrey straightened his cloak. "I'd better go. I know you have to leave early." 

"No." Erik motioned to the cot. "Stay. Tell me about Dirk. He doesn't... wouldn't talk about things very much. And it didn't feel right to ask." 

Geoffrey settled on the cot, looked at Erik, trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not. Erik pulled a stool close. Uneasy silence filled the tent for a long while, neither knowing where to start. 

Then Geoffrey smiled. "Did you know that Dirk helped me get my first date?" 

The darkness receded a little as Erik listened, knowing this was important to both of them. There was laughter, short and misty, followed by hot tears. During one story Erik moved over to the cot and they held each other again. The roles blurred, flowed between comforter and needy. Near dawn exhaustion overcame grief. When Marko came to wake Erik he found his sleeping lord held safely against Geoffrey's chest. 

They packed the horses quickly, then bid farewell to the troop. Geoffrey gave a long, hard hug to Erik and kissed Marko on the cheek, much to the larger man's embarrassment. Justin, outgoing only toward the opposite sex, shook Marko's hand and gave his brother a quick hug. Marko had the uncomfortable impression of men bring sent on a suicide mission, an impression made even stronger by the look on Erik's face.


	7. Chapter 7

Something cool and rough touched the side of his face between cheek and temple. The action brought pain despite the apparently gentle touch. Dirk raised his hand, tried to recall being injured. "Erik?" 

"No." A deep voice answered as his hand was pushed away. 

Dirk struggled to find his way out of the gray haze that surrounded him. As it lifted gradually he found himself looking up at Frederick as the older man squeezed out a bloody rag into a bowl. The mess he was in flashed back to him. He controlled his curse of dismay. 

"So," he sighed, "I didn't have the fortune of being found by a roving tribe of slimmers instead of you two." 

"No." He was surprised Frederick answered, even more surprised when the man added, "Nor did you have the good fortune to die in the fall." The statement was heartfelt. 

"You don't like what he's doing." Dirk observed, not sure where the insight had come from. When there was no reply he added, "Why did you bring me here if that is the case?" 

The big man stood, handed the still damp rag to Dirk. "There's some bread and cheese hidden under the straw." He pointed toward a pile of hay in the corner. "Get it before the rats do." He started for the door. "Dumont will know you're awake so eat fast." 

"You didn't answer my question." Dirk tried to sound demanding but the throbbing in his head foiled the effort. He closed his eyes, lay the cloth against the gash on his cheek. 

"When he hired me," Frederick explained, "it was for a simple grabbing, then to kill you on his order. He wanted revenge on you for his fellow wizard." 

"You didn't mind that." Dirk stated. 

"Not a twinge." The man faced him. "If he had ordered it right away it wouldn't have bothered me a tick. But I don't like his brand of entertainment. And I'm getting tired of being here." 

A shooting pain had made itself known at Dirk's right hip. He shifted on the hard floor, regretted it. "If you're so disgusted, why don't you leave?" 

"I haven't been paid yet. The contract was until your death." 

Dirk chuckled. "Mercenaries are so charmingly honest." It was a sincere compliment. He lowered his voice. "I'll double whatever he's paying you if you'll get word to Prince Greystone that I'm here." 

The man shook his head. "Can't do that. I signed." 

"Dumont won't be around long enough to ruin your reputation." 

"Mortals can't kill wizards." Frederick reminded him. 

"We did." Dirk's voice carried the pride he had felt when Erik had bested Vector. 

"Yeah, I've heard." 

"You have?" Dirk was anything but modest, yet it surprised him that people this far away would have heard of his and Erik's adventure. 

"The story is very popular around campfires." Frederick started out again. "But I don't think that trick will work again, unless it's permanent this time." He bolted the door behind him. 

Dirk's memory ran the images again of Erik, his sword covered in 'true love's blood,' Dirk's blood, killing Vector. The theologians had gone into an uproar over that one. The wise men had always taken the saying to mean 'mortal blood.' Dirk had to admit that at the time he, Erik and Vector had all thought him dying. It was finally decided that there was where the answer lay. Vector believed the curse and had thought Dirk dead or dying, so... 

Frederick was right, there would be no replay. He faced this enemy alone, just as Erik faced the dark and cold alone. His thoughts turned to destroying Dumont. It was the only way to ensure Erik's safety. It was hard to think around the dizziness. 

There had to be a way for a lone person to kill, or at least vanquish a wizard. At prince's school he had never been a very apt student and had never regretted that until now. Very little of the classes on magic had impressed him. While struggling to remember he tried to stand to get to the hidden food. His knees buckled, pitching him forward onto the icy stones. He lay still for a few minutes, then crawled to the corner. The food was meager, dirty from the straw dust and partially eaten. Dirk figured that Frederick had secured it from the garbage dump. It didn't matter, he ate it, forcing himself to remember that if he wanted to get out of here he would need all the strength he could conserve. 

He finished eating, leaned back against the stones. The fact that he was now wearing gray trousers and had a light blue cloak wrapped around him made him feel better. Frederick, he realized was responsible for both. Pulling the cloak tighter the thought of how nice Erik would look in such a color popped into his mind. 

There was a sudden aching void in the center of his chest. For all his life he had done without, been alone, been proud of not needing anyone. He needed Erik, wanted desperately to see him, to feel the hard body warm under his hands. Since the beginning he had spoken his love out loud very few times. Erik didn't seem to mind but it was suddenly very important to Dirk. He longed to say what he felt, the things he had such trouble expressing aloud. The humiliation of a sob rose in his throat. He viciously denied it expression, turned his thoughts back to what he knew of wizards. 

Wizards, and witches, worked through a combination of training and objects that channeled and multiplied their power. Monocles, handed down from one to another were the strongest channelers. Their origins had been lost in history but the magic they processed was so strong that even an untrained mortal could use it. Dirk smiled, almost warmly, remembering all the trouble he had caused Erik with one. There were other objects legend held to be even more powerful. 

That thought stopped him. He considered what he had seen when Dumont had last shown him Erik. The fighting had been at Chimaera Pass, two days ride, four days march from where he had been taken. Dumont had moved his makeshift army there overnight. During his failed escape attempt the flashes of power that had spooked his horse had also welded the granite. The pain Dumont caused him was something he had never heard of anyone doing. A chill tingled up his spine. Dumont had an extra focus. 

Before he could think further on that worrying thought a familiar, dreaded warmth touched him. The cold stones faded from under him, became soft silk over a feather mattress. He was nude again. He composed his features, scanned the room. 

Dumont stood near the bed he was on. The man was smiling, the same infuriating smile that he had worn for days. "Welcome back, Prince. Did you enjoy your gallop? I understand it's very good for the kidneys." 

"Very nice, thank you." Dirk said evenly. 

The wizard moved closer, stroked along Dirk's outer thigh. "I was very upset about you leaving so soon. I didn't get to do anything to...uh, for you." 

Dirk remained relaxed. "So, we're back to that." 

"You were good. Not as good as Vector." 

"Vector?" Dirk's eyes went very wide. 

"Oh, yes. Keep your teacher happy is always a part of a wizards training." 

"Teacher?" Dirk knew he sounded like a bad echo. Sudden understanding lent a smile to the swollen lips. "So, humble mage, how many years were you banished for having a student stupid enough to lose his monocle?" 

Cold hatred flared very briefly in the dirty brown eyes. Then the wizard smiled again. "Personally, I think I'm being very magnanimous about the whole affair." Dumont's hand stayed on Dirk's knee. His voice was deadly quiet. "I could have brought you here and used the whip until there wasn't an inch of skin left on your back." 

Dirk swallowed. The wind touched him again, the world did a quick spin and he was face down on the bed, leather straps holding him spread-eagle to the four solid posts. Once again he forced his muscles to relax, waited for it to happen. He felt more than heard the man move around to the end of the bed. 

A calloused hand slid down his back. A familiar, much desired voice said, "Dirk. I want you." 

Dirk's head snapped around, shoulders straining against the bonds. "Erik?" He knew better, but sight of the beloved figure, even as an illusion forced the inquiry. 

The man knelt to face Dirk, ran his hand through the black, tangled hair. He leaned forward, started to kiss the open lips. Dirk pulled back as far as the bonds allowed. 

"You're not Erik." Dirk grated. 

"Of course not." The lazy, sweet voice answered. Sky blue eyes stared into the black panicked ones. The illusion was perfect. "Still your humble mage. But I came to a rather amazing conclusion. You can accept the rape, if it buys you time until you imaginary rescuer comes. But..." 

He leaned forward, caught Dirk's head between surprisingly strong hands, held him in place while he laid light kisses over his eyes, lips, cheeks. "But, can you handle wanting it? I will make you beg for it, cry for it." His voice took on a tone that forced the illusion away, Erik's voice could never carry the menace this one did. "And if I have you killed before your lover gets here I will make sure that he knows you wanted it." 

Dirk twisted suddenly, bit down hard on the wrist near his face. Dumont yelped, pulled away. Anger flared in the blue eyes, gave Dirk the confidence to say firmly, "I don't care who you look like. I know." 

The man smiled with Erik's soft, wide grin. "You may believe that. But your body will say different." 

Dumont leaned toward him, gently kissed him wherever he could reach despite Dirk's struggles. After a few minutes Dirk ceased, buried his face in the pillows, brought up the image of Dumont beating him, went through in detail every bad memory he had, large and small. Through it all the loving hands covered his back, slipped between the soft mattress and hard chest to tease his nipples, stroked along his hips. 

"Ah, Dirk, I love you so." The hands, the voice were Erik's, the illusion strong. "I'm so happy when I'm with you." 

Dirk responded, his cock stirred, hardened. "No." His plea was almost silent. 

Erik's hand touched him, the voice chuckled. "You want me as much as I want you." 

The hand encircled his hardness, forced a small moan from his throat. "Not Erik." He told himself, but the hand squeezed, the seductive voice continued it's warm, erotic promises. 

A tongue touched the scars on his back, traced each one. He arched uncontrollable up to the touch, hating the world as his body betrayed him. Hate was something very familiar to him. He concentrated, recalled what it felt like; the heat, the anger, the power that went with it. 

He had learned hate from Vector, always sadistic to the young prince without anyone ever knowing. Dirk's survival had been in hating stronger than the wizard. Once learned it was easy to spread, to his father, Geoffrey, the Southern rulers, Ariel and..Erik, most of all. The friendship they had shared at school were the first and only moments of trust Dirk had ever known. Then Erik had gone home, to rule with his father, leaving Dirk alone again. Just as he was alone now. 

He had survived being alone before. There was nothing and no one that he needed. The warmth, the need that he had felt for Erik only an hour earlier in his cell disappeared under an overpowering wave of fear born hate. He hated Erik for leaving before, for letting him suffer now. It was irrational but it was real. And he used it. 

His erection diminished, the coaxing hand stopped, pulled away. Dirk smiled his triumph. When he looked up he allowed the raw hate to show in his eyes. Erik's image faded as Dumont staggered back three steps, collapsed into the throne. 

Then Dumont laughed, and kept on laughing.


	8. Chapter 8

The tavern was small and smelled of elderberries. Erik walked in, sure that in his present condition even his mother would have to take a second look to recognize him. Gone was his normal finery, replaced with home spun cotton in muted colors. The light hair and fair features were hidden under a course dark green hood and several layers of trail dust. Only his sword, carefully tucked under the cloak, remained as indication that he was not a laborer or trader. 

A small man with flame red hair, in need of cutting, meet him across the bar. "What can I get you?" His tone was friendly. 

"Wine, two cups." 

The thick, deep purple liquid brimmed the second wooden cup as the door opened to admit Marko. A thin layer of snow covered the floor before he got the door closed. Erik picked up the cups, met him at a table. 

Erik watched Marko take a long draught of the potent wine. Shadows showed under his eyes, and there was a weary slump to his shoulders. They had been on the road fourteen hours. The stop had been prompted by Marko's insistence that they were killing the horses. A twinge of guilt hit Erik as he realized what the trip was costing his friend as well. 

"Marko," Erik whispered, "you don't have to do this." 

Marko looked up, puzzled. "Do what?" 

"Continue this trip. It's going to get worse from here, you know?" 

"Hey, when the going gets tough, and all of that." Marko said cheer fully. He sobered a little. "I have to go to make sure you come back." 

Erik was silent, staring into his cup, swirling the drink. Marko shivered. "You do plan on coming back?" 

His prince looked up, eyes dark and haunted. "Yes. I'm not sure what difference it will make..." 

Marko said softly. "It makes a difference to me." 

"I know." Erik gripped his companion's arm, acknowledging the friend ship that Marko had always offered him. Once the knowledge would have comforted him. Not now. 

Erik glanced around the dark, small tavern, gulped the last of his wine. "Wonder if there's a way to get some food around here?" 

Marko brightened considerably. "That's the best thing I've heard all day." 

He stood, was restrained by Erik's hand on his arm. "Sit," Erik commanded. "I'll find out. I need a refill anyway." 

The barkeep was there immediately, grateful for the business in the middle of winter. He was very sincere when Erik asked about food. "Yes, sir. My wife is a very good cook. I will go see what she has." He made to turn away, turned back and shyly looked up at Erik. "Do you have money for the meal?" 

Erik took no offense, on the frontier it was a normal question. He slipped his left hand into his pouch, retrieved two small silver pieces which he knew was a goodly amount without overdoing it. The last thing he wanted was word to get out that two rich merchants were in the land. Palm up he displayed the coins to the barkeep, then dropped them into the man's open hand. As he did the man's eyes widened, staring at the two rings on Erik's fingers. 

His reaction surprised Erik. Neither the simple gold band he had exchanged with Dirk or the ivory and onyx Blackpool signet that had been a birthday present from his love were that flashy or expensive. But the man took a step back, bowed to him. 

Before Erik could question the reaction the man asked, "Sire, why didn't you say you traveled under Lord Blackpool's protection? It would have been my honor to serve you at no charge." Erik noted that he did not offer to give the coins back. "Anyone who travels this land with the Lord's sign is..." 

"Does Lord Blackpool travel here often?" Erik asked. This had been a disputed area, claimed by south and north but never contested hotly since it offered nothing in the way of advantage in the fourteen-year-old war. It seemed a strange place for Dirk to be. 

"No, sire, not lately. The last time he was through was eight or nine months ago." 

"Do you know where he was headed?" Erik questioned. 

The urgency in his voice reached the other man, made him suddenly wary. "No. No, sire, I don't know exactly. Somewhere in the hills." 

Erik saw the sudden reluctance, knew he had pushed too hard. He smiled, tried to make light of it. "Oh, well, I thought maybe he was around now. Too bad, I haven't seen him in a few months." 

The casualness seemed to relieve the man's apprehension. He refilled Erik's wine. "I'll see to your supper, sire." 

The food was plain rabbit stew with more vegetables than meat, but it was hot and the bread was fresh. The filling meal was needed to stand against the growing cold they encountered when they went outside. Marko had arranged sleeping space in the stall next to their horses. The hay was thick and the door solid, though it took both of them to close it against the biting wind. Erik watched Marko fluff the hay, crawl in between his two blankets. They were both exhausted but sleep eluded Erik. 

Why had Dirk been this way only weeks before the accident that brought them together? There was nothing beyond here but the castle they were headed for. Had Dirk been headed for the same place? Had Dirk known the person responsible for his death? The barkeeps reaction had not been one of fear, the one that Dirk usually impressed on people. If anything the barkeep seemed to have admired the dark prince. 

The night grew deeper, the questions still unanswered, growing blurred in Erik's mind. The world slowly faded into a nightmare of helpless frustration, of nearly touching then losing. Erik woke sweating. And with company. 

The cold draft that had thankfully disturbed his dream was followed by a soft rustle near the double Dutch doors. Very slowly Erik reached out, covered his snoring companion’s mouth and shook him. Brown eyes snapped open, looked sleepily over into wide blue. Erik motioned with his head toward the doors. Marko understood instantly. With the slightest whisper of sound they separated, edged toward the intruder. 

Following opposite walls they were half-way to the door when a soft, small voice shakily called out, "My Lord?" 

Erik stood. The shadowy figure he had been approaching jumped. "My Lord!" 

"Easy, child, I'm not going to hurt you." He slipped his dagger unnoticed into its sheath. "Marko, we have company." 

There was the sound of very old, rusted metal hinges moving and Marko was standing next to them with a lantern in hand. The girl's large eyes shifted quickly between the two of them. She was tiny, perhaps 12 or 13, wrapped in a muskark coat that nearly swallowed her. In the dim light Erik could make out light blue eyes in a fair face surrounded by black hair. She would be a lovely women, would already be considered so in some parts of these mountains. 

"Do your parents know where you are?" Marko asked. 

The girl looked guiltily at her feet. "No. I snuck out." 

"Why?" Erik asked gently. 

Pointing she said. "Father, told me about your ring." She looked hopefully up at him. "Have you seen Dirk?" 

Something in the girl's shy, wishful tone touched Erik. "Where did you meet Dir...Prince Blackpool?" 

"He was nice to me whenever he came here. He saved Fluffy for me once." 

"Fluffy?" Marko remarked with a trace of a smile. 

"My kitty. He was real sick. Dirk and his friend were here and Dirk made his necklace glow and Fluffy got all better. I don't think his friend liked me." The words tumbled out in one long, breathless sentence. "He used to come all the time but I haven't seen him in so long. Do you know where he is?" 

A flood of emotion threatened to overwhelm Erik. Here was the side of Dirk that he had kept carefully hidden. Only Erik had been allowed to see it almost shyly revealed as their love and ease with each other grew. The little girl's remarks confirmed what he had suspected, the kindness had always been there, just buried under many layers of scars. He blinked rapidly to stop the tears. 

Erik knelt next to the girl, hugged her very tight. He wouldn't lie to a child he shared a carefully guarded secret with. "What's your name, little one?" 

"Franscasa. Dirk called me Casy." 

"Casy, Dirk won't be coming back." He controlled the tears, allowing them to show only in his voice. "Dirk's dead." 

The girl's reaction was what he had expected. She pulled away a little, stared up at him in complete trust. "Oh, no. That can't be right." 

"I'm sorry. He..." 

"Ebon told me he was on his way to see his master." She explained firmly. 

Marko came down to her level. "You talked to Ebon?" He looked over at Erik, "Ebon is, was Dirk's favorite war horse." 

"Yes, I know. He would have been riding him the day he died." Erik looked confused. "Casy, where...when did you see Ebon?" 

"Dirk's friend had him," she explained. 

"When was this, Casy?" Marko asked. 

"I've been to bed three times since I saw him. I gotta go now. Momma will be mad if she catches me." 

Erik held her very lightly, petted her black hair. "One more question, Casy. The person, the one with Ebon, was he the same one that Dirk was with before?" 

"Yeah, Carl was his name." She made a face. "I didn't like him." She slipped out of his grasp, moved to the door. "I'll ask Ebon about Dirk next time I see him." The wind whipped the hay around as she left, closing the door behind her. 

"I don't understand." Marko asked. "How would someone Dirk knew end up with his horse?" 

"If Dirk was allied with Dumont, and called off the alliance because of me..." Erik speculated. 

"He could have started the war to get revenge on Dirk." Marko finished. "But why the horse?" 

"I don't know. War spoils maybe." Erik sighed. "I'm tried. Let's get to sleep." 

Marko managed to sleep almost immediately, a talent Erik had always envied in his stalwart companion. He was not as lucky. The uneasy feelings he had been having before their small visitor were stronger now. The explanation he had given Marko answered all the questions too neatly. Something was not right. Dawn was only hours away when he managed to doze lightly, dream uneasily. 

In the dream he stood on a battlefield, surrounded by dead men. Dirk came to him, reached out to touch him, their hands passing through each other's. Erik cried out. Dirk laughed. There was a bedroom then, a large four-poster bed, the posters carved into horrid gargoyles. Two men were on the bed, moving in the heated rhythm of sex. The man on top penetrated the dark-haired one beneath him with a powerful thrust. Erik moved closer. The bodies stilled, stiffened in climax. The one underneath; Dirk, looked up, black eyes shining with a light Erik had known often. The man on top withdrew, kissed him, looked over at Erik. They both laughed at him. 

He was awake, crying. Not from sorrow. From betrayal.


	9. Chapter 9

The hate was gone, extinguished with Dumont's first laugh. He had used his hate to stop Dumont. But it had turned on him, shown him the one thing he couldn't face. Part of him still hated Erik. In that instant Dumont had won. There was nothing left in him but shame at having betrayed the one person who loved him. 

"So," The humor still rich in Dumont's voice. "The great, prefect love is not so pure after all. At least not on one end." He came over to the bed, knelt. "When I fucked Vector he knew it was out of lust and dominance, his price for learning the dark arts. That was more honest than what you've been doing." 

Dirk's face stayed buried in the pillow but he cringed, feeling the truth in the soft, teasing words. 

The mage laughed again, walked back to the throne. "Frederick!" The door creaked open. "Unchain him, except for one leg. I'll be back." 

Frederick did not like the orders but he followed them, being surprisingly gentle. Only when he pulled away after helping Dirk sit up did his green eyes met the shadowed black ones. He had felt Dirk's slender hand slip the chain's key from his belt pouch. There was a moment of tense silence. They both knew what would happen if Dirk were caught. Frederick turned away. 

As he reached the door he turned back to the prince and said, "I don't really need the pay that bad." 

*****

Erik's first thought on seeing the small hovel was to wonder what in the world the owners did to make a living in these desolate mountains. A large dog ran forward, barking loudly but with his tail wagging. From the low shed behind the house a sheep started bleating. The door opened a fraction. 

"What do you what?" The voice was deep, solid, a little nervous. 

"We're two travelers seeking shelter for the night." Erik was surprised at the effort it took to raise his voice. "We can pay." 

The door opened. A large, rough looking man stepped out, staff in hand. "How much?" 

As before in the tavern Erik did some quick calculations and drew out several brass coins, held them out. He made sure that the signet ring was visible as he handed over the coins. The man paid no attention, reached for the coins. Erik closed his hand before the man could take them. "This includes whatever you can spare for supper." 

The man nodded. "Agreed. Won't be much." 

"Agreed." Erik dropped the coins into the calloused hand. 

"In the shed. I'll bring you the food." 

The shed had been dug in, the extra dirt stacked against the log walls to cut the wind and rain. It was just high enough to stand in, the smell of sheep almost overpowering. The sheep, three ewes in one pen and a ram in another bleated loudly until Marko spoke to them in low assuring tones. Erik ignored the proceedings, throwing his blanket into a corner as far from the livestock as possible and following it to the frozen ground. 

The wind died down, the sheep remaining quiet after Marko's little lecture and the silence stretched out. Marko was uncomfortable with the silence, was considering restarting the conversation with the sheep when the door swung violently open, slamming the wall. The farmer came in swinging, giving Marko barely time to duck the staff aimed at his head. The wood swirled harmlessly pass. 

Erik scrambled up, sword hissing from its sheath. The man swung again at Marko as the vassel tried for his own weapon. He jumped sideways, slipped in the hay and was clipped by the stout stick. The hay that had caused the problem cushioned his fall. 

The man swung a killing blow down toward him. The oak weapon caught on Erik's gold sword. The farmer spun, surprisingly fast for someone so large. Erik ducked, blocked, blocked. The prince was the better fighter, the farmer more aggressive. Erik moved in, tried to catch the staff, missed, took a hard hit across the ribs. He gasped, stumbled backwards, went down. The oak came down a second later. Erik rolled sideways, hit the man flat edged behind the knees. It was the man's turn to cry out. Before he could regain his footing Erik had a leg across his chest and the sword at his throat. The man froze, stared at the fair prince. 

"Marko?" Erik questioned. A mumble answered him. He turned his attention to the fallen man. The razor edge pressed down. "Why?" 

The man offered no resistance. "Dumont, paid me. I didn't want to but the Prince said he would kill me if I didn't stop the man wearing a ring like his." 

Erik's blood went cold. "What Prince?" 

"Prince Blackpool." 

"When?" 

"Four days ago." 

Erik heard, knew what the man was saying but it didn't register. The sword went slack in his hand. The farmer sensed the slouch, reached for his belt, hand settling around a skinning knife. The knife shoved toward Erik's chest. Marko cried a warning, hit the man's arm but the blade ripped through the cloth and flesh of Erik's left side. Marko punched the man once, sending him out for the rest of the night. 

The blood running hot down his side went unnoticed by Erik. He was in a strange twilight state waiting for the world to come back to normal. Everything was gone. It was different now, a different kind of dark, a different kind of pain. Before he had memories, had loved, had known that for months his love had been returned. 

He stood up, pushed away Marko's attempt to stop the slow running crimson. Leaning against the door he took several deep breaths. Marko came to beside him. 

"Erik? What is it? What's happened?" 

Erik looked through him. "He said...Dirk was here...four days ago." 

Marko smiled, thought he understood the shock. "Dirk's alive! That's terrific! Don't worry! If this Dumont person has him prisoner we'll get him back." 

Erik was shaking his head, trying to deny it, trying to explain it. "No, not a prisoner. Dirk ordered...our deaths." He turned back to the cold bright stars. He was talking to himself now. "It was all a trick." 

Marko took his arm. "What kind of trick? What are..." 

"Dirk was here with the wizard who started this, only maybe he didn't start it, maybe Dirk did." The statement didn't make a lot of sense. It did make Erik mad, madder than he would have ever thought possible. The feelings from the night before intensified, turned his sorrow and grief into something darker, more dangerous. 

Prince Greystone turned back to Marko. "The answers are still in that castle." His lips were tight, voice low. "If Dirk has endangered the south while betraying me, I will kill him."


	10. Chapter 10

Dirk was very good at waiting. It was a talent that had brought him many secrets. As a child he would find a spot, somewhere out of the way and freeze, remaining absolutely still for hours. There was no place to hide now but he sat as he was, unmoving, ears and eyes catching everything Dumont did, the happy mood he was in when he returned. 

"Well, dear boy, it seems your prince is coming." He laughed again. "Oh, but this should cheer you. I intend to let Prince Greystone live. It seemed so much more fitting a punishment. I mean, after he's killed you, then finds out it was all a horrible misunderstanding, I think letting him live with what he's done is so much more interesting." 

There was no way Dirk could control his reaction to that statement. His eyes flickered up. "Kills me?" 

"Oh, my yes!" Dumont said proudly. "I've paid him a couple of visits, not as myself, naturally, and well, it seems that he not only knows you're alive but he seems to have gotten the strange idea that you've betrayed him." He fondled Dirk's balls. "I'm sure he'll also he interested to know what you did for me." 

The last part of his boast, the glitter in the narrowed eyes created a sinking feeling in the pit of Dirk's stomach. His one remaining hope had been that he could finish the wizard, and himself without Erik ever finding out what had happened here. Even that was lost to him now. His chin dropped to his chest, a knife edge of guilt pushed through him. 

Dumont stroked lightly along his ribs. "You're very good at sucking a person off. Lots of practice with the fair prince, I would guess." He commented smoothly. "I had almost considered changing plans, just so I could keep you but," he sighed, "with anything this complicated it's best to just let it roll to a conclusion, don't you think?" 

He smiled, kissed Dirk on the forehead and walked back to his throne. Dirk watched dully. It came together in a flash of bright insight. Dirk almost laughed at how blind he'd been. He knew what the second focus was. And he knew how to destroy it. In a cool voice he said, "Did you know that there is another way to destroy a wizard?" 

For the second time Dirk had the pleasure of seeing Dumont flinch. The wizard recovered, smiled. "That may be, but you and your gold lover will never have a chance to try it." 

Dirk returned the mage's smile with a feral flash of white teeth. The waiting continued. 

*****

Erik and Marko lay belly down on a ledge over-looking the ruined castle. Marko frowned. "Do you think that it would be a mistake to say that it's too quiet?" 

Erik didn't answer, drew his sword, started down the loose shale incline. Marko, as always, followed. The morning sun had been enough to melt the light snow on this side of the mountain but even without the deadly white there was little cover offered by the few scattered rocks. No one challenged them. They reached the first crumbling wall. 

"Easier than getting into Castle Blackpo..." Marko regretted the reminder as he said it. 

"Getting in was always the easy part." Erik commented dryly. "Getting out was the challenge." 

"Erik," Marko touched his arm, "you don't really think Dirk would betray you?" 

Erik's blue eyes matched the cold winter sky above them. "There's no other explanation." 

"Oh, come on, I can think of..." Marko's voice died out, killed by a single look from Erik. 

They hung against the wall, stayed to the shadows, ducked into the horse-warmed dimness of the lean-to. There were four horses, one of them Ebon. They nickered, demanding to be fed. Marko shushed them, started to question Ebon. A shape blocked the gray sunlight from the main entrance. They pushed back into the shadows. 

A man came in, untied a gray mare, retied her near the entrance, jerked a saddle off a pole railing and started to tack the animal. 

Erik came silently up behind him, touched his knife to the man's ribs. "Stand still and silent." 

The man did neither. He turned very slowly, hands raised. "Prince Greystone." A slight smile curled his lips. 

"Who are you?" Erik ordered. 

"Ex-hired help." Casually he turned away, continued tightening his clinch. He glanced over his shoulder, studied the prince. 

"Where's your boss?" Marko demanded. 

Frederick untied his steed. "Don't worry, you'll find him. He wants you to find him." He swung up. "I've done all I can to help, believe me. A piece of advice - don't believe everything you see. Good luck to you, Prince Greystone." 

Erik tucked the knife back it his sheath, watched the man ride away. Marko looked on in surprise. "Erik, why didn't you stop him?" 

"The wizard and Dirk are the only ones I want." He moved toward the only visible entrance. 

*****

Dumont rose from his throne. "Our guests will be arriving soon." 

Dirk looked up, his hand was cramping from holding the key carefully concealed. He relaxed as Dumont approached, raised his chin defiantly toward the man. 

Dumont tsked, "No, no, can't have you looking like that for our visitors, now, can we?" He waved. 

The familiar flash, the familiar warm wind and Dirk found himself standing, chained to a pole a few feet from the throne's stone base. He was dressed, black leather studded with silver, with a sword dangling at his waist. On reflex he reached for the silver hilt. A shock knocked his hand away, brought an involuntary yelp from him. Dumont smiled. 

"You didn't really think I'd go that far, did you, prince?" 

Dirk glared back. "I think you're a dead man." 

*****

"Whoa." Marko's voice was low, insistent. Erik halted, looked back over his shoulder. "There's something up there." 

His lord took a step back so they stood shoulder to shoulder. "Animal, vegetable or mineral?" Erik questioned. 

"None of the above." 

The dark tunnel ran into the distance. From somewhere in the blackness came a low growl, the swish of a large body against the stone walls. The two men pressed closer to the damp wall. 

"Looks like a cross passage a few feet ahead." Erik observed. "You take one side, I'll take the other and we'll catch it between us." 

"I've got a better idea." Marko smiled at Erik. "I'll distract him while you go on." 

"Marko..." 

"Hey, Erik, if we get there together what is it you're going to tell me?" Marko kidded. "That it's something you 'have to do alone.' This will just speed things up." 

Erik almost smiled. "Ok. But, Marko, be ..." 

"I will if you will." Marko patted Erik's shoulder. 

The prince inched along the wall, keeping a careful eye on the large shadow that dominated the hall. Just as he rounded the turn there was a bellowing roar behind him and the scramble of claws on stone. Through the echoing halls he heard Marko's battle cry then the sharp sound of metal on...something. Erik stopped, nearly turned back, forced himself to continue. The real menace was up ahead.


	11. Chapter 11

Dirk's head snapped up at the distant sound of a dragon giving challenge. Dumont straightened his cloak, smiled at Dirk. "They've found my little pet. That means he'll be here..." He stopped, frowned in irritation. "That will never do." 

He stepped away from the throne. Dirk glared at him, very casually he moved the hand holding the key closer to his back. Dumont patted the bruise darkening Dirk's jaw. "We wouldn't want Erik to think we'd been having a lovers spat." 

There was the disgustingly familiar flash but when it faded Dirk couldn't tell anything had happened. Dumont was nodding. "Much better. Amazing what a little cosmetics will do. Oh yes, can't forget this, can we." The chain around Dirk's ankle became invisible under another flash. 

A sword clanged against the oak door. Dumont and Dirk both jumped. Dumont went back to the throne, waving his hands intricately. The monocle glowed bright, deadly. "Mustn't make it too easy for him to reach you." 

The air in front of the door condensed, sparkled. It took monstrous outline as the door exploded inward from Erik's charge. Erik scanned the room, eyes lighting on Dirk immediately, glittering dangerously. 

Dirk knew the picture that Erik was seeing. He was standing, unchained and unhurt, dressed in his old manner, sword at his side, next to the man who had started a war on the south. 

The air took final, solid form. The griffin growled, swung a massive paw. Erik ducked, the claws skidded against chain mail, threw him across the room. He rolled, hit the wall with his feet, bounced up. The griffin took to the air, wings fanning the torches, creating bizarre shadows and light. 

Dumont left his roost, stood between Dirk and the battle raging between prince and legendary beast. Dirk tore his eyes from the fight, knelt, felt carefully, desperately for the chain, almost yelled his triumph as he slipped the key into the lock and slid out of the restraint. Dumont's back was to him. 

It was the same move he had used fourteen years before on Vector. He kicked out, hitting the wizard behind the knees, grabbing for the silver chain that held the monocle. But Dumont was not Vector. As he fell forward one hand clutched at the monocle. The chain came over the wizard's head but he had a firm one-handed grip on part of it. Dirk's hand went forward, wrapped around the crystal. Dumont was more agile than he looked. He rolled with the fall, came up opposite Dirk. He wasn't smiling now. His other hand started up to signal a spell. Dirk kicked out but the mage's shield was still in place and his leg went numb from the impact. Dirk jerked the chain, throwing the spell off. Dumont jerked back, swung sideways. It was Dirk who went to his knees this time. 

Dirk knew every move that was going on behind him, felt each claw that nearly landed, knew when the sword almost hit home. A scream of pain from the griffin echoed off the walls. Erik would win, and then Dirk wasn't sure what he would do. He knew that if Dumont got off the right spell and knocked him loose they were both lost. The decision he had reached only a few hours before remained his only answer. He would die to save Erik, to save himself the pain of losing him because of his betrayal. 

Prince Blackpool was the one who smiled this time. He lunged forward, landed on Dumont, locked his arms around him. "So, humble mage, tell me what happens when two focuses touch?" He rolled them toward the throne, his hand around the monocle inches from touching the marble base. 

Pure panic turned Dumont white. He snaked one hand free, made a quick motion. Pain, white-hot, flashed along Dirk's nerves. He screamed, was drowned out by the death cry from the griffin. Dirk's hand slipped off the smooth monocle but caught the silver chain. 

Without the monocle's power to renew his own the action cost the wizard. He sagged, his hand slipping so that the monocle dangled between them like a dead hare between two hounds. 

Erik was suddenly beside them, tunic spattered in blood, eyes blazing with cold fury. There was no time, no strength left to Dirk to try to explain. He lunged again for the gray marble. The gold sword came up over him. He closed his eyes against the tears of frustration. The sword sang down, sparks showering his wrists as the chain was severed. Prince and wizard fell apart. Dumont screamed. Dirk held the piece with the crystal. 

Erik snatched the monocle out of his startled lover's hand, hurled it underhand to land in the seat of the throne, spun as he tossed, and wrapped himself around Dirk. 

There was the whoosh of an implosion, the ground began to shake, the sound of falling rocks echoed through the castle. Eternal seconds passed as Dirk lay beneath the safety of Erik's body, wondering if the mountain would again claim the castle, and them with it. The earth's protest ceased. He turned his head far enough to see the deep carter where the throne had been. Dumont was standing beside it, staring down into the smoking hole. The bed, the fireplace and Dirk's clothes had vanished with the throne. 

Erik stood up slowly. Dumont spun around, hands clenched but surprisingly calm. Neither spoke, just studied one another. Dumont took a step toward them. Erik moved between him and Dirk. 

"When did you guess at my little charade?" Dumont demanded. 

Erik smiled coolly. "I didn't have to guess. I knew. Dirk could never betray me. He loves me." 

The mage stared at him in complete puzzlement, as if he were speaking a different language. "Love? Hah! Do you expect me to believe that? I saw what he really feels. No, I simply underestimated your intelligence. I won't make that mistake next time." 

"Next time?" Erik regarded him closely. "Without a monocle that's going to be a bit difficult. Keep this up and we'll manage to get rid of the whole lot of you bad guys." 

"By all the dark powers on this or any other plane, I will be avenged against the two of you, Prince Erik Greystone." Dumont smiled. "Look for me, Prince. I will be there." 

There was a ringing sound, a smoky black haze and the wizard vanished. 

Dirk lay still, not knowing what to do, not having the energy to do anything. He felt a trembling hand slip under his chin, force his head around. Concerned, relieved, tear-filled, smiling blue eyes gazed down at him. 

"Hi." Erik whispered. 

There had never been so much said in such a small word. Dirk couldn't face it, tried to pull away. Five days of pain, worry, and no sleep came back at him in one large surge. Just before the world spun away his head was caught in tender hands and lowered to a soft, warm cloak.


	12. Chapter 12

Erik put more wood on the fire, checked Dirk again before sinking down next to him. It had been many hours and the northern prince was still asleep. It had made things easier for Erik and Marko. They had salved his cuts, put liniment on the worst of the bruising. The damage was not as severe as Erik had feared. 

Dirk mumbled in his sleep, tried to roll over. Whispering sweet assurances Erik rubbed the broad shoulders under the blanket. Sensing the warmth Dirk rolled toward it. Very slowly dark eyes opened to stare at Erik. 

"Are you awake?" Erik asked a little shakily, barely touching the abused cheek. 

For all his life Dirk had dreamed of waking to a feeling like this. It didn't matter that the floor was hard and the blankets scratchy. The person looking down at him loved him. He started to smile up into the blue eyes -remembered. A soft sound of dismay escaped him. 

Erik lay beside him, kissed him lightly on the temple. "It's over. Love. Dumont is gone. It'll take him years, decades to find another monocle. You're here with me." There was a catch in the light words. "You'll be fine now." 

Fighting the restricting blankets Dirk tried to move away. "Leave me alone. Go away." 

Hurt flashed through the blue eyes, changed to concern. "Why? Dirk, what's wrong?" 

"Please, Erik, just...I can't...tell you." Dirk turned his head away, fastened his gaze on the opposite wall, away from too blue, sad eyes. 

"Dirk, if it's what Dumont said I don't..." 

"I did betray you, Erik." The words were a raw whisper. 

Erik shifted to look down at Dirk. "That's silly, Dirk. I figured out what Dumont was up to when that little girl managed to close a door in the middle of a wind strong enough... You couldn't betray me." 

"I did. When..." The voice died out, came back stronger. "I've got to leave. I can't stay with you." 

Fear paled the blonde prince's haggard face. Roughly grabbing Dirk's chin, Erik forced him to look at him. "Don't ever, ever say that! I just spent days thinking you dead. Do you have any idea what kind of hell that was?" 

Dirk's wince of pain cut through Erik's fear. He relaxed his grip, ran the back of his hand up Dirk's jaw. "I'm sorry. You scared me. Please, love, tell me what happened?" 

The desperate longing in Erik's face melted the ice in Dirk's chest. "You've loved me. And I hated you." 

Erik didn't blink, smiled softly. "You weren't always popular with me." 

Dirk shook his head. "Not then, now. Dumont made himself look like you. To try and make me want him." The words fell out in a rush. "It almost worked. Then I remembered how much I...hated you for leaving me. The hate was strong and I used...it." 

"Leaving you?" Erik looked confused. 

A slight blush showed around the bruising. In the months they had been together Dirk had never mentioned how much the young prince's friendship had meant to him. "When we were in school. I...loved you then, not like now, but you were the only person who ever... When you left, that's when I started to hate..." 

His confession was cut off by Erik lifting him, blankets and all into a fierce, rib-creaking hug. "Oh, little prince, I am so sorry. I never knew." He stroked the coarse, black hair, laid him gently back down. 

Erik asked quietly, "Do you know what my first reaction was when I thought you dead?" Dirk shook his head. "I hated you for leaving me." 

Dirk looked up, saw the truth in misty blue eyes. 

"Dirk, you did what you had to." Erik explained. "Hate is what you survived on for a long time. It will take time for you to learn that love, our love, is even stronger." 

Dirk shook his head. "But suppose it's still... Erik, when Dumont was trying to do that...I think I could have killed you." 

Erik laughed. "You never could before. What makes you think you could now?" 

"What?" Dirk asked. 

"Dirk, sometimes you are so slow!" 

A little blaze came back into Dirk's eyes. "So, you keep telling me." 

Erik kissed him lightly on the nose. "In all the years that you hated me, in all the times you had a chance to kill me, you never managed it. Doesn't that tell you something?" 

"That it's possible I loved you and hated you all at the same time?" Dirk ventured. 

"Both have always been there for us." Erik conceded sadly. "Hate's been the stronger for a long time. But," he said softly, "I'm willing to bet that love will win out." 

"You forgive me?" Dirk said with a puzzled note. 

"Dirk," Erik sighed, exasperated. "There is nothing to forgive." 

The covering blanket was snatched away, replaced by warm living flesh. Erik kissed him, licked cautiously along split lips, down the fine throat. "You would have died to save me. That isn't usually a sign of dislike." He bit a little harder on one lip, tasted the slight tang of blood. "Don't ever do anything that stupid again." 

Dirk's head dropped. "When I thought I wouldn't see you again, I felt...I wanted so bad to hold you, to tell you how much..." For the third time in his life Dirk felt the promise of tears blur his vision. 

Erik raised his chin again. "I know you love me." 

The love so evident in the gentle face stopped the tears, turned Dirk's faltering statement into the easiest thing he had ever said. "I love you more than is possible, Erik Greystone." He kissed the blonde prince, slowly, thoroughly. I have loved you forever and will love you forever." 

Noonday sun paled in comparison to the light in Erik's eyes. "You've gotten much better at that." The statement was light, smiling but the tears spilling down his cheeks showed the true effect of Dirk's words. 

Erik slid off, lay beside him, looked down into black eyes glittering with firelight and lust. 

"Love me, Erik." Dirk commanded. 

Erik shook his head. "You're hurt, and weak. Not tonig..." 

A hard, hot, hungry mouth came up to claim his. Dirk's tongue demanded entry, slipped into familiar wet warmth. Erik took a very long breath when Dirk released him. Dirk smiled wickedly. "I may be getting better at saying it but I'm still best at showing it." 

Erik leaned forward, licked a tickle of blood off Dirk's lips. "Only if you'll promise to be careful." 

He stood, pulled the blanket up over Dirk while he quickly undressed, shivering slightly in the cold. Dirk chuckled as he ran a hand over the goose bumps the cold raised on Erik's hip. Nude, Erik ducked under the covers, snuggled into Dirk's warmth. 

A slender hand touched his groin, stroked once. Long days of terror, nights of heartache made Erik forget his own advice. He slid onto Dirk, his head resting on the dark furred chest. He kissed across the chest, spent extra time licking around the purple bruises, wiggled until his hip pressed down on Dirk's cock, one leg nestled between muscled thighs. Dirk sighed. 

Nipples tightened under Erik's slow tonguing, Dirk's sighs turning into small moans. Gold dust shimmered through two sets of nerves. Dirk's hands moved up, tangled in the silky hair, a finger circled Erik's ear. He leaned into it, silently begging for more. Dirk teased at the back of his neck and kissed along the curve of his shoulder. 

The cock under Erik's knee hardened, lengthened. Erik smiled at his lover's smoldering expression, shifted, pressed down, rubbing long hard strokes with his whole body. Dirk's hands roved, one ran down Erik's back, returned to the small round ass, kneaded, fingers just grazing the depression down the middle. Two fingers of the other followed the line of the spine, continued on, skimmed across the tight entrance to Erik's body. 

Erik moaned, pushed back, demanding more. Dirk's right hand pushed between them, took Erik's hot erection, began to keep stride with the easy rhythm Erik was sitting. 

Erik looked down at him, smiled. "I thought I was to love you?" 

Passion hazy black eyes barely opened. "You are." 

Mouths met. Erik rubbed his tongue across perfect teeth, reversed the move, took Dirk's tongue into his mouth, sucked against it. Dirk's moan came from far down in his chest. The fire carefully under control blazed up. Erik pulled away, lifted Dirk's hand, sucked the fingers into his mouth, put the hand on the top of his ass. 

"You're so subtle sometimes, Erik." Dirk breathed. 

Erik shifted, twisting until he straddled Dirk's face, his cock hanging before the willing mouth, demanding attention. Without waiting for Dirk to move Erik took the wine red cock below his mouth. Dirk moaned again, controlling the urge to push up into the tight throat, knew that Erik would take him without urging. 

Dirk wet his fingers again, reached up despite the awkward, wonderful angle, rubbed them around the tight muscle, kissed the rose flushed organ before him. With prefect timing he sucked Erik's cock into his mouth, slid one moist finger deep into his ass. 

Erik faltered, sucked in a breath, "Dirk..." 

Enjoying the pleasure he was giving as much as the pleasure he was receiving, Dirk increased the long smooth glides up and down the engorged organ. Letting Erik set the pace, he continued the gentle stimulation, rubbed against tight interior muscle, feeling the heat build. He added a second finger, twisted both slowly, heard Erik's soft, pleasured cursing. The first drops fell on his tongue, were swallowed. The taste, the smell of Erik pushed the dark prince closer to his own climax. 

Fingers pushed deeper, found the spot, touched it with sure strokes and Erik went over, hips bucking, thrusting down into Dirk's throat. 

Erik pulled back as the first waves of orgasm ripped through him, as his muscles stiffened and his jaws clamped down. He grabbed Dirk's cock in a firm hold, pumping, never losing the fevered pace. 

The first scalding jets hit the back of Dirk's throat. He swallowed, loving the taste, treasuring the power. Erik's mouth claimed him again and he thrust, touching the back of Erik's throat and went over to join his slender lover. 

They lay still for a long time, heartbeats slowing to normal, eyes drifting shut from pleasured exhaustion. It was Erik who shifted first, kissed the softening cock, licked across Dirk's stomach. Dirk lay absolutely still, so still that Erik was worried for a moment. 

Dirk opened his eyes, dispelling the worry. Black eyes shimmered, bright with joy and love. He tried to say something, had it destroyed by a wide yawn. 

Erik's smile was gentle. "Sleep now, little prince. When you awake I'll be here, tomorrow and forever after." 

*****

The feasting was well underway before Erik was able to lead his bemused lover away from the crowd. Dirk had been in a pleased daze since their arrival back at Castle Baaldorf. They had been greeted with whole hearted hugs, broad smiles and, from Geoffrey, poorly hidden tears. Erik had sensed first Dirk's disbelief and wariness then his shocked acceptance that everyone really was glad he was alive, and not just for Erik's sake. 

Erik glanced over his shoulder at his lover. Dirk was still pale but three days’ rest, lots of food and gentle loving had put the strength back in his limbs, the mischievous glint back in the beautiful eyes. Erik sighed, he had brought them to the woods just to find a quiet place to be together, a rarity except late at night, but the flush from the cold was highlighting Dirk's cheeks and lusty thoughts began whirling through his mind. He would have laid him in the snow had he not been worried about him catching a chill. 

"Erik," Dirk questioned, "does it seem like Geoff's gotten taller?" 

Erik thought about it for a minute. "No, I don't think so." 

"Hmm, seemed like it." 

They reached their destination in a few more yards. The small spring had been a favorite of theirs as children, had become so again in adulthood. The old rope swing had recently been replaced after an aborted attempt by Erik to use it. Dirk had folded over with laughter when the supposedly graceful swing ended as an ass first slip into the bank's mud. Erik had a tough fight controlling his own joy at Dirk's laughter. 

Reflecting back over the recent fun, Erik turned toward Dirk, kissed him lightly. "I love you." 

Dirk blushed, had obviously been thinking of the same thing. "You like when I act like a fool." 

"Like someone who's having fun." 

Dirk pressed close, rubbed his knee between Erik's legs, dropped his voice to a husky whisper. "I like having fun." 

The fair prince laughed. Dirk had been getting bolder in their loving, urged on by Erik, but it still delighted him when Dirk joked. They sat down, shoulders brushing, on a fallen limb that lay at the roots of the large oak that had lost it. Dirk turned, rested his back against the strong body. The forest was a sanctuary done in white and blue around them. 

"Erik, what would you think of moving?" Dirk questioned. 

"Why? I'm very comfortable." 

Dirk sat up, glared at his companion. "Sweet idiot, I meant us. Finding a place of our own." 

Erik was completely taken back by the sudden suggestion. "Why? I thought you liked it here, and at Castle Blackpool." 

"I do. But I've been thinking about what you said before, about everything that's been between us." He turned around, excitement rushed the words out. "We've been too long in our fathers' kingdoms. Let's go build one of our own." 

"What? Where?" 

"Dumont's Castle." Erik started to protest, Dirk cut him off. "We can take Marko, workman, people to help with repairs. We can seal off the worst of the damaged halls and rebuild the others. We'll have to bring in most of our supplies at first but there must be some farm land nearby for someone to have built there in the first place." 

He stood up, still talking. "Justin and Geoffrey can rule here. Erik, this country's been mapped, explored...and fought over. There's nothing new here. But now that everything is stable here there's a whole continent on the other side of that castle waiting to be explored." 

Erik tried to speak again, but Dirk knelt in front of him, took his hands. "This place, all that has happened here, it makes me feel...guilty over what I've done..." 

The sentence was stopped by the kiss, long and lingering that Erik pulled him into. When he finally released the Northern prince he was smiling. 

"Yes." Erik said. 

"Yes...what?" Dirk mumbled at little dazedly. 

"Yes, we can go. Not because of a castle to build or a land to explore but because I will do whatever makes you happy." Erik explained. 

Doubt flashed through Dirk's eyes. "But do you want to?" 

Erik laughed. "Yes. I've never built a kingdom before." 

Dirk pushed himself up and forward, knocking them both back over the log, into the snow. Black eyes blazed with relief, lust and more love than Erik would have thought possible. Before he could react to it Dirk pulled him up, dragging him back toward the festivities. 

"Dirk, where are we going?" Exasperation tinged Erik's voice. 

"Back to the castle. There'll be a lot to do." Dirk pitched his voice to his best regal level. "Supplies to organize, vassels to order around, horses and wagons to arrange, my love to lay, soldiers..." 

"Dirk..." Erik started to protest, stopped, realizing what the list had included. "Dirk, I like your list but I'd very much like to do something about the priority." 

Cocking one eyebrow Dirk said, "Oh, you have a preference?" 

The heat from the kiss, and the not-so-subtle stroke along his groin, made a verbal answer unnecessary.


End file.
